


"...Lizzie..."

by cress26, heatherpeters



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Love, Romance, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-09 13:58:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5542493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cress26/pseuds/cress26, https://archiveofourown.org/users/heatherpeters/pseuds/heatherpeters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you ever wonder what happened between Liz and Red after their conversation in the car at the conclusion of Earl King VI?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Close Call

**Author's Note:**

> This is a multi-chapter AU Lizzington Vignette ~

It was over; the Kings were apprehended, the Moretti boy was rescued and safe and the FBI closed in and retrieved all the kidnapped; all the stolen treasures and priceless artifacts were recovered, among them, the Van Gogh, sand grains and all, the forged Ming Vase, all of it.

Once again, Agent Elizabeth Keen had solved another case, with the help of Raymond Reddington, of course. 

Leaving the mansion where the auction had been held, she was handed an FBI wind breaker to keep out the cold, and refused Agent Donald Ressler’s offer to drive her back to the post office for a possibly endless night of paperwork.

Elizabeth Keen had unresolved business to attend to. And that ‘business’ was sitting in a shiny black Mercedes parked not far from the mansion entrance.

Call it luck, chance or fate, but once again, Raymond Reddington had cheated death. If not for her, following him and his captor, a Cameroon guerilla by the name of General Yabari down a long narrow tunnel in the bowels of the mansion, he would surely be dead, shot in the head by the jungle dictator.

Hiding in the shadows while Yabari dragged Reddington into a filthy washroom at the end of a corridor, she boldly took off after them, approaching the entrance just as the killer put a gun to the back of Reddington’s head.

And then, Elizabeth Keen heard Reddington proclaim a single word, two syllables, like a tiny prayer, fall from his lips. It was all she could do to hold the gun straight to get a single shot off, when she realized what he’d whispered.

“…Lizzie…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	2. Not deserving of help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red points out to Lizzie that her choice to save him wasnt a wise one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This continues after Liz and Red face off after Earl King VI - I always wondered what happened after the 'car' scene - so I created my own ending ~~ more to come ~

She climbed in the Mercedes, and there he was, alive, breathing, thank God.

Seems he changed out of the ‘lousy’ tux he was forced to don for the auction, and back into his own clothes. She couldn’t discern the look he was giving her at first. He appeared weary, or angry.

Or both. Sitting very still, stoic, as a matter of fact.

Red rarely showed any emotion after killing an adversary, so this was different. But how? She wondered.

She was soon to find out.

“Never do that again.”

Liz was taken aback by his bold statement, that he accentuated by adding, “I’m serious.”

She pointed out that with his help, the FBI had taken down the famed crime family, and in the interim, recovered hundreds of priceless artifacts, not to mention, kidnap victims.

“I’m not talking about that.”

Her eyes searched his face, especially his eyes. Tears brimmed from those sad green orbs. Liz stared at him for what seemed, endless moments. And came to the realization that Red wasn’t angry, or weary.

He was frightened. He was talking about himself. Apparently, Red had never taken help from anyone, and this situation was no different.

She’d nearly lost him tonight; right in front of her. Yabari had put a gun to his head and nearly blown him away.

Liz attempted to hide her shaking hands in her jacket sleeves. She couldn’t lose him. She just couldn’t.

And no matter what she did or said, he was adamant about accepting help – especially from her.

“I risked my life for you because I care about you. Deal with that.”

Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision of him. He was so close, yet a million miles away.

No more, she thought.

And she cared for him, not just as an ‘asset’ or a ‘partner’. 

Tonight proved for Liz that somewhere between trapping and catching Blacklisters, somewhere among the cryptic conversations and Red’s diverting parables, she’d fallen in love with him.  
Now, what to do with that information, especially on the heels of all that happened tonight.

“And when someone does something nice for you, you’re supposed to say, ‘thank you’.”

His expression did not change, not one iota. He sat stoic, body stiff and unmoving, his green eyes resigned and teary. “Thank you.”

Her eyes met his. Come on Red, talk to me, smile, grab my hand, touch my arm, do something, she thought.

That something never came.

Except his reply, which was monotone and again, revealed nothing of what he was really feeling. 

“But never do it again.”

She allowed the tears to fall, and lowered her head, feeling an innate emptiness, a void that only the man sitting next to her, could fill.

“Dembe and I will drive you back to the post office."

Liz nodded slightly and turned her head out the window so he wouldn’t see her tears.

What did she have to do to make him see?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, I do not own Blacklist or its characters.
> 
> Many thanks to my dear friend and fellow author, Cress 26, for your input, suggestions, and helping to make my stories readable!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lizzie takes matters into her own hands; its time she confronts Red and lets him know how she feels.

An hour later, Lizzie was still staring at her laptop screen. She couldn’t concentrate on anything much less the Earl King paperwork, and the few paragraphs she’d written were garbage. 

She pressed the ‘delete’ button, and wiped out all she’d written.

Red. She couldn’t stop thinking about all he’d said in the car tonight. 

Or maybe it was what he didn’t say, that was pissing her off.

He’d warned her to never attempt to save him again. He’d thanked her for saving his life, only after she’d prompted to do just that. To say she was upset was an understatement. He’d just rejected her plan to save him from certain death, and she couldn’t accept his anger. She’d risked her life for him because she cared about him, but all Red saw, was that he hadn’t wanted her help. 

The man was not only a signature alpha, but also insufferable and high handed when it came to getting his way. Always thinking he was right and after stating his case, no matter what it may be, that was it. Case closed. Finished. No room for debate, argument or discussion.

Looking around her tiny cubicle at the post office, and still wearing her silver and black evening gown, Lizzie felt unsettled, impatient. The heavy earrings that dangled from her ears were beginning to pinch, and the hair pins that held her fancy up-do, were giving her a headache.

This is ridiculous, she thought. She needed to go home, remove her clothes, un-do her hair, and set those gorgeous earrings in a safe place, till she could place them in evidence.

But she wasn’t going home – not yet.

She wasn’t finished with Raymond Reddington. She’d forego the time it would take to go back to her motel room, shower, change into jeans and drive to his safe house.

With her mind made up, and promising to return to her desk early the next morning to re-write and submit her report before Cooper arrived, she grabbed her shoulder bag, a silky black shawl, and made her way out the door.  
She wouldn’t be able to sleep until she told Red what she needed to say.

#####

She arrived at Red’s safe house a half hour later. She parked her car next to the shiny black Mercedes, in the gravel driveway of the stately mansion, turned off the ignition and walked toward the front door.

She knocked, once, twice, until the sound of footsteps told her Dembe was on his way.

“Elizabeth.” He greeted her with a frown, let her walk past him and closed the door after her. “Is something wrong?”

Bless his heart, she thought. The man was ever vigilant and always protective of not only Red, but her as well. She managed a tiny smile, but wasn’t about to confide her presence here.

“I need to see him, Dembe. Now.”

The tall, muscular man who was stronger than a tank, but possessed the heart of a teddy bear, nodded once. “He’s in his office. You know the way.”

“Thank you,” she touched his arm, then watched him disappear in the opposite direction.

The sound of her heels clicked on the marble floor as she made her way to the back of the house. He wasn’t expecting her. Good. She wanted to take him off guard. She nearly laughed at that. In what century could anyone ever take Raymond Reddington off guard? Nevertheless, she draped her shawl over a nearby chair, and purposefully made her way to his office.  
Upset though she was, angrier than hell, her heart still pounded in her chest, and her hands trembled.

##### 

She heard music coming from the closed door as she approached his office. He must be playing that jazz record she got him last Christmas. 

Then she realized, no, it wasn’t jazz. It was Sinatra. 

And he was singing about having a woman under his skin, deep in his heart.

Before she could think about the lyrics to that song, Lizzie threw open the door without knocking.

He was sitting on the edge of a large antique oak desk, facing her, still wearing his dress slacks, but his tie was gone and his shirt was open to expose that beautiful patch of chest hair she secretly coveted. In his hand he held a very large glass containing a equally large portion of scotch. It wasn’t hard to see that he was on his way to becoming very drunk.

He lifted his head as she entered. His eyes slid from the top of her head, to the bottom of her gown. Lizzie shivered as she watched that tongue of his play across his lips. His eyes looked weary and a little blood shot.

“We need to talk. Now.”

Liz stood with her back to the door, waiting for him to do something, anything. 

He slid from the desk, holding the crystal glass in one hand, while he took the needle from the turn table with the other, shutting off the music. Now they were alone, in a quiet room. Now she could reason with him. 

“Did you forget something Agent Keen? Because I thought our business was concluded for the evening.”

She folded her hands in front of her, mainly to steady her nerves. Red was a force to be reckoned with, but she wasn’t about to back down.

“How dare you.”

He took a big gulp of scotch, essentially emptying the glass, slammed it on the desk and faced her. “How dare I what?” 

“Please stop Red. Stop making a mockery of our conversation in the care. How could you refuse my help? Where does it say that only you have the privilege of saving me, hmmm? Why can’t you accept the help when the shoe is on the other foot?”

He turned from her and walked to the built in bar to pour another drink. This tactic was a favorite of his when he didn’t want to deal with her questions – or deal with the truth.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough for one night?”

He turned toward her, but instead of returning her anger or taking the bait, he simply said, “no, Lizzie, I haven’t had quite enough. Perhaps I’ll never have enough. And to answer your question: because I’m not worth it.”

She stood rooted to the spot. “You may not think so. But I happen to know that you’re wrong. How can the things you do for me not touch me? Not matter to me? You are worth it, Red.”

He replied, “You’re just feeling grateful – thanking me for all I do for you.”

“You’re sidestepping again.”

“We’re done here, Lizzie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You can’t dismiss me.”

“Good night Lizzie.”

She took a different tack. “I heard you!”

His head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Lizzie –“

“Exactly! When Yabari was about to shoot you, I heard you say MY name.” Her voice broke and tears fell. “I heard you.”

He swallowed hard, his face was still as stone. “Yes.”

“Is that it? That’s your answer?”

Red looked into his glass, looking as though he’d find the answers he sought at the bottom of that crystal. “I’ve answered your question. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Sinatra and I are reminiscing about women who are, may I say, difficult to avoid. Please go, Lizzie. I’m really in no mood to continue this tonight.”

“Well, you’re not going to dismiss me tonight,” she snapped, walking toward him and taking the glass from his hand.

He drew a weary hand over his scalp, and then faced her. “What do you want, Lizzie?”

“This,” she answered, caressing his face in her hands and kissing him before he knew what hit him. 

Maybe it was the scotch, because Red’s response was slow. But respond to her he did. He tasted of liquor, smelled like spice and his mouth on hers sent tendrils of sensation along her nerve endings.

Before she could even think about what he was doing, she felt herself being backed up against the door. His kisses matched hers, and suddenly, all Lizzie could compare his sudden actions to was the collapse of a dam.

His hands were on either side of her head, palms flat against the door. She rejoiced in the fact that he didn’t push her away, or try to talk. 

She wanted more. She wanted him.

Leaning away from him, she grew bold, and took the next step in her plan to seduce him. She took his hand and brought it under her dress, beneath her tiny lace thong. Opening her legs, she looked at him. They were nose to nose, and while his eyes opened wide from the fact that she’d placed his fingers over her mound, Red took the initiative and pushed his fingers into her.

“Does this feel like gratitude to you?”

Red couldn’t believe that she was here, still in that gorgeous dress, opening herself up to him, giving herself up to his loving. His eyes drifted shut and he groaned, wanting to delve deeper into her heat. All of a sudden he felt desperate, and he wanted her now, wanted to make her ready for him, then make love to her right here, up against the door, He hurriedly rip her panties off, then dropped them to the floor, pushing them away with his foot. 

Lizzie responded to his touch with one of her own. She tore open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere, and brought her mouth to his chest, kissing and nipping his flesh, then touching his nipples where they nestled within the dusting of his chest hair.

There was no time to speak. 

There was only Lizzie and what they shared.

His skilled fingers drew in and out of her, till she was wet with arousal for him. He felt her come over his hand, then pulled out of her heat, and tasted her on his finger. 

As he shrugged out of his shirt, Lizzie drew open his zipper and pulled down his slacks, till he kicked them off. He responded by pulling the pins from her hair till errant tendrils fell around her lovely face. He proceeded to un-zip that glorious gown, allowing it to fall and gather around her feet. He kicked that away as well.

Red was desperate now. He was hard as brick, and as though reading his mind, Lizzie took hold of his length, so engorged by now that he thought he’d come in her hand. But he controlled that urge, craving the thought of burying himself inside her.

He tore her bra, vowing to buy her an entire wardrobe of sexy lingerie as soon as he could whisk her away to a certian lovely little boutique in Paris. 

Her beautiful breasts called to him, her pebbled nipples hard and inviting his mouth to take her. He licked and suckled each ivory globe, listening to her sounds of excitement, knowing she was a hot and stirred up as he was.

“Red…..”

He looked at her. Just that one word, his name, was enough. 

Both of them naked, he lifted her up into his arms, up against that sturdy oak door, and wrapped her long, shapely legs around his waist, while she grabbed his length, and guided it inside her. There was no time for gentleness now, and their pleasure was all that mattered to Red.

Buried to the hilt, they looked at each other, breathing hard and labored, aroused beyond all reason. Grasping her hips, Red pushed her into the door, his body thrusting, driving into her, while her cries urged him to give her everything he had. 

She was incredibly beautiful and he watched her throw her head back as he pushed and pulled, hard and deep and hot, inside her.

“Now, Red,” she pleaded as he continued to thrust. “More.”

That was all it took. Lizzie’s voice, heavy with emotion, thick with arousal, drove him on and in seconds, their climax filled the room with their cries.

#####

Catching their breath seconds later, Red caught her in his arms, and they slid to the floor.

He lay next to her, and pillowed her head on the discarded clothes beside them.

Smiling, he kissed her gently, and tenderly rubbed his finger down her flushed cheek. “I thought you wanted to talk.”

She nodded, loving his touch. “You said my name, Red. Right before he—“

“Yes,” his voice was low and deep. He drew his fingers through her thick locks and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her nose. “If I was going to die, you would be the last beautiful thing on this earth I wanted to visualize. You know how I feel about you, Lizzie. And you cannot continue to blame me for not accepting your help. You could have been killed tonight. That is not only unacceptable to me, it’s totally unnecessary. Don’t think I don’t appreciate all you do for me, because I do. I just have a difficult time accepting the fact that you put yourself in danger for me.”

“You have to accept my help Red,” she whispered, sliding the back of her hand down his cheek. “There is no room for debate over this issue, okay? I don’t want to fight. Making love is a far more wonderful way for us to be together. Don’t you agree?”

 

“Yes, and now, thanks to your rather overt persuasion, I’ve proved it. I apologize for not making love to you in a proper bed. But I will make it up to you, I promise.”  
Her eyes filled with unshed tears. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Red moved to pick her up. “No.” she answered, holding his arm. “Let’s stay here a bit longer, please Red.”

He could deny her nothing. Covering her with his ripped shirt, he lay next to her, tucking her head into his shoulder, and surprisingly, despite the hard floor beneath them, they ended up drifting off in each other’s arms. 

#####

Hours later, Lizzie found herself wrapped in one of Red’s silk robes, as he led her to the library. 

He was dressed in jeans and a black Henley shirt. Lizzie loved seeing him in casual clothes. He was still so youthful, still so hungry for life and all it held for him.

“I want to show you something.” He said in explanation.

Red switched on the light and led her into a room that reminded her somewhat of the book-filled area in Edward Hempstead’s apartment. Only on a much larger scale.

“What is it?”

They moved to the center of the room, and there, sitting on a pedestal, a light illuminating the frame that cradled it, was the original Van Gogh that the Kings were planning to auction off.

He raised a single eyebrow, his eyes twinkling, lips curved in a playful smile. He was obviously enjoying himself.

It seemed you loved it so much, I thought you should have it,” he chuckled. “Well, as Josephine Sullivan’s persona that is.”

“How did you--? Forget it…..I don’t want to know.”

“No, you don’t. But this way, you can visit anytime you want. After all, I do have to admit that I enjoy when you go undercover, but not when you risk your life.”

“Are we going to have that argument again? I thought we were over that.”

Red smiled. “We are – so now you can have me --- and the Van Gogh.”

She crossed her arms and gave him a stern, authoritative look. “Stealing a priceless piece of art is a federal offense, Reddington.” 

“I didn’t steal it Lizzie. You wound me by accusing me of a crime,” he joked, moving behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist, pressing her body close to his. “I borrowed it for a time,” he whispered, his love for her making his voice thick with emotion. It will be returned to the museum it was taken from, I promise.”

They enjoyed the painting for long silent moments. Amazingly, the grains of sand from the beach Van Gogh painted it from were visible to the naked eye if one looked close enough. Red hated to break the silence, but it was time for her to know his plan.

“By the way,” he murmured and buried his lips in her hair. “What would you say if I asked you to move in with me?” Red asked.

Lizzie’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “Red, are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. After all, don’t you know how deeply I care about you?” 

Finding her speechless, he nodded, then leaned down to kiss her. “Deal with that.”

#####

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I do not own Blacklist or any of it characters.
> 
> This last chapter was a collaboration between myself and Cress 26 - thanks, my friend ~ you added just the right amount of spice to Liz and Red's confrontation.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and commenting ~ your words mean the world to me!

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own The Blacklist or its cast of characters.
> 
> Thanks to Cress 26, as always, for helping me put the pieces together.
> 
> And my undying gratitude to all those who read and who share the love we all have for these two ~ Lizzington lives.


End file.
